Unmade
by adhDrabbles
Summary: In which we start at the end, and Clint and Natasha struggle to piece back together something that was never whole to begin with. Now rated for BlackHawk lemony goodness. Thanks for reading!
1. We Won

**So Avengers has pretty much become my latest obsession. It was bound to happen, what with how beautifully the film feeds my previous Iron Man obsession and adds a whole new level unique to itself in the form of the tantalizing relationship between Black Widow and Hawkeye just begging to be expanded upon. I fell so hard for this ship I got rug burns. :3**

**If you have seen my other posted works then you won't be surprised to find out this simply started out as a Clint/Natasha lemon. (well two actually, but who's counting) But I had so much fun writing the obligatory plot snippet preceding the lemon that I ran with it and came up with enough material to just maaaaybe call this a real story, not just a steamy oneshot! (not that there's anything wrong with steamy oneshots amirite? *perv laugh*) So once we get to that, I'll up the rating.**

**Soooo anyways... Please enjoy the first chapter of my BlackHawk story! (I see the term BlackEye being used a lot for them, but come ON people, BlackHawk is sooo much cooler.)**

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"We're not finished yet." Thor cautioned Captain Rogers. There was a heavy pause, broken by a weary yet still insistent voice.

"…Right. And then shawarma after." Tony groaned.

Clint smirked when he heard Stark's voice over the com, relief flickering briefly across his stormy blue eyes. Leave it to that showboating son of a bitch to throw a nuke halfway across the universe and live to be sarcastic about it. Barton rolled his shoulders in a vain attempt to relieve the tension in his muscles, wincing at the bite of glass shards in his skin. He made a mental note for the future to avoid jumping off skyscrapers and smashing through windows whenever possible. Clint immediately refocused when his target wheezed painfully from the crater in the floor he occupied. The S.H.I.E.L.D marksman approached the fallen warmonger and assessed what if any threat he still posed. After the way the Hulk had worked Loki over, Barton doubted he had much to worry about. Still, he was glad he'd managed to scavenge a few arrows on his way back to Stark tower.

"Agent Barton… Or do you prefer Hawkeye?" Loki tried to chuckle but it shattered into a cough. Clint nocked an arrow to his bow and lined up the tip with Loki's left eye socket. "Have you come to take your revenge before the others arrive? I doubt they would hold it against you." Loki sneered. Despite how spectacularly he had failed in his endeavor the demi-god's voice still dripped with condescension. He seemed to be goading Barton to kill him.

"A quick death is too good for you." Clint replied in an icy tone. Horrific images blossomed in his mind: the Helicarrier erupting into flames, Nick Fury dropping from his bullet, his own hand forcing a blade towards Natasha's throat. It made him want to scream with rage and take the shot, but he wouldn't allow Loki one more shred of control over his actions. "If I have to live with what you did every day for the rest of my life, then so should you." He finished just as the other members of the team arrived at the decimated Stark tower.

Loki managed to haul himself into an upright position, meeting the hard gaze of each the Avengers in turn. "If it's all the same to you-" he rasped, "I'll take that drink now."

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Stark filled a line of shot glasses with dark amber liquid, carrying his glass and one for Loki to where the demi-god still sat on the floor. "You realize I'll be sending you an invoice for all this." Tony waved his arm around the devastated room before handing Loki his drink. The frost-giant's son had the prudence to simply accept his drink with a stiff nod. Bruce, now far less green, exchanged a sidelong glance with Steve. Captain America just shrugged, he was beginning to think no time or place existed in which Tony Stark was not a smartass.

"The battle is won. I was honored to fight alongside each of you. You are all admirable warriors." Thor raised his glass in a toast; the vessel looked comically tiny in his huge hand. Each Avenger tipped their cups in turn, while Loki simply downed his shot and stared at the floor.

Natasha scrutinized each member of the team; they had weathered their first battle fairly well all things considered. She had to hand it to Fury; she had never believed the Avenger Initiative would bear any worthwhile fruit. When her gaze rested on Hawkeye her stomach tightened with anxiety. He could hide it from the others, but she knew Clint well enough to interpret the tense set of his jaw, the distance in his slate blue eyes. Now that the battle was over and there was breathing room to think about more than the next target, she was certain Barton was ripping himself apart over what he had done under Loki's control. She wondered if Clint would ever accept that all the blood spilled the past few days was not on his hands, but Loki's alone. After all, the pair of S.H.I.E.L.D. assassins could ill afford any more red on their ledgers.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I just single-handedly saved a city from becoming a smoking crater and I'm starving. It's shawarma time." Tony set down his glass and dusted off his pants.

"I could eat. But what do we do about him?" Natasha tossed her head at Loki. At her words Loki struggled to his feet, and Clint had his bow retrained on the criminal in less than a heartbeat. Thor approached his adopted brother, hammer in hand but not poised to strike just yet. The tension in the air was thicker than the Hulk's green skin.

"Got it covered." The self-proclaimed genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist turned on his heel and pulled a small silver object from his pocket. Before any of them could react Tony shot out his hand and cupped it to Loki's ear. Tony grinned smugly when Loki dropped like a stone; Thor barely managed to catch the demi-god before he crumpled in a boneless pile on the floor.

"What did you do to him?" Thor demanded as he adjusted the lead weight of the man in his arms.

"Relax Mt. Olympus; I just used a high frequency transmitter on him. It's a design I improved upon that I got from… An old friend." Tony waved the device in the air. "He'll be completely paralyzed for a few hours, and aside from one hell of a hangover he'll come out of it good as new. No permanent harm done, it's just a little extra insurance while we go get our shawarma on." He pocketed the transmitter and gestured to Thor to follow him to the elevator that amazingly still functioned.

"Meet us downstairs guys. We've gotta tuck Junior in and read him a bedtime story. Oh and Banner, I'll grab a shirt you can borrow." Tony stepped into the elevator and Thor followed with his burden slung over his shoulder. Steve grinned crookedly at Bruce, who returned his smile sheepishly, folding his arms across his bare chest.

"Jarvis, if our overdressed friend happens to get up, make sure he doesn't try anything." Tony ordered as Thor deposited Loki in a heap inside a small, solid concrete chamber. The enclosure was rigged to fill with white hot flames, designed to test his armor tolerance against extreme heat. It was about as close to a detention cell as Stark tower had. He would have to work that into the renovations and sneak it past Pepper somehow.

"Of course, sir." The A.I. responded.

"And make sure he doesn't… Choke on his tongue or anything." He added with a sidelong look at the tall blonde Asgardian. Thor nodded and the pair headed down to rejoin the rest of the Avengers.


	2. Shawarma and broken glass

**Thanks to everyone that read/reviewed/alerted chapter 1, please enjoy chapter 2 of Unmade! For the first couple chapters I am trying not to stray from what would work timeline-wise in the last bit of the movie, so please bear with me if it seems a little rigid. Things should smooth out here in a bit.**

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The group crowded around the tiny establishment's only undamaged table. The restaurant owners had insisted on cooking up every last scrap of food in their kitchen as their way of thanking the Avengers for defending their little piece of the world. The food wasn't fancy, but it was hearty and the weary warriors found comfort in the simple fare. No one seemed up for light conversation, so they ate in companionable silence.

Steve was exhausted physically and mentally, leading a team of volatile strangers against an alien invasion wasn't exactly the reintroduction to the world he had envisioned. As he glanced around the table at the tired faces of his team, he felt a strange combination of pride and relief.

Pride because they had managed to save the world with immeasurable odds stacked against them; and relief because their greatest hurdle was learning to operate as a cohesive unit. Every individual skill set on the team was needed, but it was their ability to work together that had won them the day.

Clint pushed his basket of French fries towards Natasha, giving her a half grin when she grabbed one and popped it in her mouth. She smiled back, but he could see the shadows of exhaustion and pain in her lovely eyes. It was easy to forget that the famous Black Widow with all her deadly talents was still a mortal woman with no otherworldly powers. She turned her attention back to her food, her hands trembling ever so slightly when she picked up her pita.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. marksman gently cleared his throat, nodding at her seat when Natasha looked at him. The spy immediately understood and slid forward in her chair to allow him space to prop his foot up behind her. Clint shot a warning look at Dr. Banner as he did so; the man had been stealing glances at Natasha since they left the tower like some smitten schoolboy. The doctor quickly found something more interesting to look at. If the other Avengers noticed the borderline possessive posturing, no one was going to comment on it. Clint was too exhausted to give a damn what they thought anyway.

When the Avengers arrived back at Stark Tower there was someone waiting to greet them. Pepper Potts, who had just stepped off her emergency return flight to New York moments prior stood at the top of the entrance steps. The tall strawberry-blonde practically flew into Tony's arms, kissing him like the world was still about to end.

A few moments later Natasha awkwardly returned Pepper's embrace and allowed the woman to usher her and everyone else back into the tower. Despite everything that had transpired in the last 24 hours, somehow Ms. Potts had still managed to arrange accommodations for the whole group including Dr. Selvig and sent the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents dispatched by Nick Fury to keep an eye on their 'special guest' in test lab 30. Agent Romanoff wondered if Stark would ever fully appreciate how lucky he was to have that woman looking after him.

* * *

They all ended up back in the decimated lounge area on the top floor, Tony poured more drinks and the group took a quiet moment to watch the sun dipping behind the New York skyline. One by one the Avengers began retreating to their borrowed beds for the night.

Clint and Natasha were the last remaining. The master assassins stood side by side looking out at the world they had barely managed to save, almost but not quite touching. Clint considered the broken city sprawled out below them, his heart twisting with empathy. Midtown was as thrashed and torn up as he was. But then again, skyscrapers could be rebuilt, roads repaved. Would he be able to set right the wrongs he committed under Loki's control? Natasha had told him on the Helicarrier that none of what happened was his fault, but it didn't change the fact that he had the blood of his friends and allies on his hands. Again.

"Clint. Stop doing that to yourself." Natasha chided quietly. She turned into his chest and pressed herself against his hard frame, trying to pull him from his dark thoughts. Every muscle in his body was taut like the string of his bow. The spy knew few words of comfort and even less of affection, so she simply clung to him, sighing with relief when Clint wrapped his strong arms around her. His hand caressed the back of her neck and Natasha couldn't help the little shiver of desire that coursed up and down her body at his touch.

"Tasha…" Hawkeye murmured into her fiery hair, drawing comfort from her warmth, sweet scent and the steadiness of her pulse under his fingertips. Warning bells were ringing in Clint's mind, they were crossing a dangerous boundary drawn between them years ago.

Ever since Barton had put everything on the line to take the infamous Black Widow off the S.H.I.E.L.D. hit list and onto its agent roster the pair had become… Something more than two people working together. They were more in tune than partners, more intimate than lovers, closer than old friends. This made them a formidable combination in their field of work, but it also forced them to walk along the edge of a knife. They had decided long ago not to act on or even acknowledge any feelings that might become a liability later on.

But now in the wake of everything they had gone through the past few days, it seemed that neither Hawk nor Widow were willing to go back to the way things were. Natasha had never been so close to losing Clint in the most horrible way imaginable, and she realized now that losing Clint meant losing the only good part of herself.

So when Clint tipped Natasha's head back and searched her face for hesitation, he found none. His lips brushed hers lightly at first; igniting little sparks in her skin and making her breath hitch in her throat. Natasha returned the kiss with more force, desperate to drown in his scent and taste and feel.

Clint responded in kind and backed Natasha against the wall, trapping her between it and his muscular frame. Thrills coursed up and down Natasha's body, she gasped when Clint's mouth left hers to kiss and bite a searing trail down her pale throat. She ran her hands over his shoulders; then suddenly stiffened.

Barton glanced up to see what the matter was, cringing when Natasha showed him her blood-smeared palms. She shot him a glare, though it lacked her usual venom considering her cheeks were flushed with desire and her breath was coming in shallow gasps. "Are you serious, идиот?" Natasha berated him. Clint laughed, kissing her lightly before pushing away from the wall.

"Glass is kind of hard to remove from your own back. Think you could help me with that?" He asked in an unapologetic tone, turning to collect his bow and quiver. Natasha shook her head and followed him back to his room.

**A/N: I've gotten a few questions about "идиот" so thought I would add a quick note. I wanted Tasha to curse at Clint in her native tongue, cuz in my head she does that often. :) SO. Through the mystical power of Google, I looked up the Russian equivalent of "idiot/fool" and used this term. If there are any readers out there that speak the language and are laughing at my ignorance because that word is really Russian for "cheese" or something, PLEASE do not hesitate to send me a note and correct me. I will love your face forever. Thank you, please enjoy Unmade!**


	3. Kiss it better

**Chapter 3 is finally here! I had such a hard time with pacing myself on this one :3 It gets a lil' steamy, I hope you like! There IS a lemon attached to this, I'm just going to be posting it separately since it isn't exactly crucial to the plot and some people might want to skip over it. (I do not understand these people, but I can respect them. Kind of. lol) Thanks for reading!**

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Natasha was pleased to find a first aid kit sitting on the small table by the bed. Pepper Potts really did think of everything. Considering how much practice she got dealing with the unimaginable by wrangling Tony Stark over the years, it wasn't too surprising.

Clint shrugged off his flak vest and yanked his black sleeveless t-shirt over his head. Natasha drank in the sight of his chiseled frame, biting her lower lip unconsciously. Streaks of blood and dirt stained his tanned skin, the fresh wounds of the day's battle overlaying old scars. The spy mentally checked herself and forced her attention back to the medical kit, sorting out what supplies she needed to clean and tend Clint's injuries.

Barton sank heavily onto the edge of the mattress. He bent down to unlace his boots, immediately regretting the action as a lightning bolt of pain hit his cracked ribs and branched out across his torso and up his spine.

"Your new friends sure know how to party." Clint commented dryly as he sat up, grinning at the cool look Natasha shot him. The redhead knelt behind him on the bed, laying out her medical items methodically in a line to her left. Everything Natasha Romanoff did was calculated and efficient, traits ingrained in her as a youth in the Red Room. It was partly because of this that the Widow worked well with so few agents; and so well with one agent in particular. Hawkeye's precision marksmanship and sharp analytical mind made him deadly perfection from a distance the way she was up close.

Natasha began carefully extracting bloody shards from Clint's flesh. He stared blankly ahead as she worked, concentrating on the bite of the glass, the sting of the antiseptic. It was easier to focus on physical pain than to try and wade through the quagmire of his guilt over recent events and the uncertainty of his future. Director Fury had given Barton a long leash so far purely out of necessity. Now that the world was no longer in imminent danger of being destroyed, could he really expect to just go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and pick up his duties like he hadn't ever been compromised? Having Agent Romanoff's backing would help his case, but nothing was ever simple in that organization.

"You won't be held responsible for anything that happened, Clint. Nick Fury won't let the Council touch you. He trusts you." Natasha spoke as if she could read Barton's thoughts scrolling over his head.

Clint couldn't help the wry chuckle that escaped his chest. "Of course he trusts me, I shot him." He retorted.

"Coulson showed me the recovered security footage. You shot Fury in the chest. We both know that man practically sleeps in a vest, and there was no risk that you would miss a headshot. Even compromised by an alien force, you were still fighting every second." Natasha finished cleaning his wounds and began gathering up the bloody gauze pads she used. "Besides, I took a shot at Fury once too. I'm pretty sure it's some kind of rite of passage."

Clint smiled and turned to face the woman, snatching her wrist when she picked up the bottle of disinfectant. "Hold it, I need that." He gave her a warning look not to argue with him, and Natasha relented with a small sigh.

"I'm fine." She scoffed. Barton quirked his eyebrows in a dismissive gesture and gently brushed her flaming tresses back to inspect a long cut at her hairline. With a deft hand he cleaned her wound and applied a dab of liquid bandage to keep it from reopening again. Clint's face was close enough to hers that Natasha could see the light brown stubble of a few days without shaving on his chin. He finished his work, slate blue eyes refocusing on hers. Clint didn't pull away, but he didn't close the distance between them either. Barton was letting her decide, and she hated him for it.

Natasha knew it would be better for both of them if she put an end to this childish fantasy. There was no room in their line of work for vulnerability, and agent Romanoff knew better than most that giving in to emotion made one vulnerable. It would be so much easier to write off their kiss earlier as a moment of weakness and put it behind them.

But Natasha didn't want easy. She wasn't particularly happy to discover that even the cold, deadly Black Widow had a weakness. Her weakness was Clint, he always had been. It had just taken a vengeance-crazed demi god, a blue cube with limitless power and an alien invasion to force her to admit it. "Clint, I…" Natasha murmured, unable to find the right words to convey how she felt. Instead she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss deeply, slowly, giving measure to her frantic, desperate motions. Clint swept his hand into her hair and pulled her closer, growling in his throat when she straddled his lap, jarring his injuries. Pain quickly took a backseat however as Natasha's nails skidded down his bare chest and he squared her hips with his, making both of them shudder with want.

Hawkeye was a world-class sniper, and so had an unmatched eye for detail and nearly unlimited patience. He picked up on each little jolt and intake of breath as his hands roamed over Natasha's body, filing away her responses for later. He couldn't count how many times had he pictured this in his mind, but still no fantasy compared to finally having this exquisite woman in his arms. Clint's fingers slipped between their bodies and unzipped her skintight body suit, exposing the creamy skin between her breasts to his hungry mouth. Natasha gasped and rocked her hips against his, yanking her arms out of her suit so he could strip it off her torso.

Natasha slid backwards off his lap and stood before him, smiling as she offered Clint her leg. He pulled one boot off and then the other, then drew her closer and tugged her suit down over her shapely hips. He stripped her down to her black cotton bra and panties, playfully biting her hipbone as he peeled the tight fabric down her legs. It wasn't exactly poetry to get this suit off, but the redhead wasn't overly concerned with finesse at the moment. All she cared about was getting as much skin to skin contact with the man sitting in front of her as possible.

Clint gripped her hips, looking up and down her gorgeous figure. Her flesh was marred here and there with scrapes and bruises from the battle, but most pronounced were the deep purple marks painted across her taut abdomen. Barton winced as he recalled checking her with a knee to her stomach when they fought on the Hellicarrier. There were fingerprints on her arms and neck he was sure belonged to him as well.

"Clint. It's over now. I'm here, and I'm all right." Natasha reiterated when she saw his eyes cloud with darkness. She climbed back onto his lap, cupping his face in her hands.

"Nat… I'm sorry I hurt you." Barton murmured.

"You didn't hurt me. But you can make me feel better." The spy retorted with a guileful smile. Hawkeye chuckled and leaned forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss.


	4. Don't hold back

**Hello my sweetbuns! Welcome to chapter 3.5 of Unmade! I say 3.5 because it isn't the next chapter, it's the BlackHawk lemony goodness portion of chapter 3. Nothing in this installment is important to the plot, so if you are not a fan of lemons you can skip this chapter. (I do not understand this, but I can respect it. Mostly. lol)**

**WARNING: contains mature content. DO NOT READ if you are offended by sexual content. Got it? Kthxbai. Don't worry, babies come from storks.**

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Mindful of how Clint had been favoring his left side since they got back to the tower, Natasha refrained from wrapping herself around the man and slamming him back onto the bed like she wanted to. Clint sensed her hesitancy and slid his hands down Natasha's sides to hook behind her knees, yanking her forward and causing their hips to align forcefully. The pair of agents had spent years carefully sidestepping the chemistry between them that had nothing to do with friendship or duty. Now that they were finally crossing this line, Barton sure as hell wasn't going to let Romanoff hold anything back. He opted to show rather than tell his partner that of the many things he wanted from her, restraint was not one of them.

Clint rolled sideways, pulling Natasha beneath him and stealing the spy's breath with his abrupt assertion of control. He kissed her hard and deep, making her abandon any lingering notion that he needed to be handled gently. He withdrew for a heartbeat to discard his boots and remaining clothing then covered her body with his again.

Natasha's head lolled back and she hummed with pleasure as Clint's teeth scraped her collar bone, his lips wandering down to the smooth skin of her cleavage. After a moment the spy leaned up and reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, impatiently discarding the troublesome barrier keeping Clint's mouth from where she wanted it. Barton smiled when she chucked the garment to the floor, loving the way the cool, collected assassin he knew was coming undone in his arms.

Natasha arched against the marksman's muscled frame, relishing the delicious sensation of his heated skin meeting hers. Clint reached up and kneaded one soft, full breast, taking the rosy peak of the other in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tight bud. He teased the flesh to a rigid point with his teeth, wringing desperate little gasps from her throat as he did so.

"God, Clint…" Natasha panted when he bit her sensitive nipple a little too hard, just like she'd hoped he would. He leaned over to give similar attention to her other breast, his hand sliding down the flat plane of her stomach and toward her already wet center. A delicious pressure was building in her lower abdomen, every touch and kiss adding fuel to the fire burning in her flesh.

Clint's hand slipped beneath her panties and along her slick heat. The archer's strong, callused fingers pressed into her entrance and stroked her walls, making Natasha moan deeply. He thrust two, then three digits inside her and curled his fingers in time with her shuddering breaths, rubbing his thumb against the button of nerves above her opening to make her see stars. Hawkeye had a feeling he was going to pay for taking complete control like this; the Black Widow did not strike him as the type of lover to tolerate being dominated for long. But he looked forward to what she might do to get back at him later.

Natasha's hands twisted into the sheets as Clint leaned forward to lick and nip at her neck while his skillful ministrations drove her closer to glorious oblivion. Barton craned his head up and kissed her ear, his breathing hot and ragged with desire. Natasha tipped her face towards him, sweeping her hand through his short sandy hair and pulling him in to press her lips against his urgently. She moaned desperately into his mouth as he increased the pace of his fingers, her whole body trembling with need as he drew her tighter and tighter like a bowstring. They broke apart to gasp for breath and Natasha cried out as her climax hit her like a surging wave. Clint relished the sight of his partner's face as she found her peak, all her barriers stripped away in that moment of bliss.

Barton withdrew his fingers and sat up to pull her panties over her hips and off her body. Natasha proceeded to hook one leg around his waist and hauled herself upright, bringing her face a breath away from his.

"Should I be worried that you're so good at that?" Natasha quipped, nudging his nose with hers.

"Absolutely not." He replied with a cocky grin. Barton shifted to lay her back on the bed, but the redhead had other ideas. She pushed back, sliding her tongue into his mouth and for a moment the pair battled for dominance. Barton groaned with pleasure when Natasha reached between them to stroke his hard length, weakening his resolve to fight her for control. It was the tiny opening she needed, and before Clint could blink she swept him with a move he had seen her use to take down men twice her size on more than one occasion.

A stab of pain in his ribs made Clint see red for an instant as Natasha slammed him on the bed, but it only served to rile him up and he matched the fierceness of her kiss even as she pinned him beneath her. Her fiery hair tickled his face as the Widow moved to trace the bow of his ear with the tip of her tongue, teasing him with light touches the way he had done to her.

Clint hissed through his teeth as Natasha leaned back and ground her slick heat against his erection, kissing a trail down his throat and the middle of his chest. The Widow worked her way down his body with her lips until she knelt between his legs. She slowly licked his hardness from base to tip before taking him in her mouth. Natasha bobbed her head up and down, using her hand to stroke what she couldn't accommodate with her mouth.

"Damn it Tasha…" Clint groaned with pleasure as she swirled her tongue around his shaft. He forced himself to hold still as she tantalized his rigid flesh, pushing him to the brink. His head tipped back and he had to tense all his muscles to keep from exploding. Natasha licked him playfully, knowing how close he was. Most men she had been with, whether for work or recreation, arrived at their pleasure as quickly as possible without a thought for their partner's satisfaction. But Clint was patient, or perhaps, she thought with a smile, he was stubborn. She met his gaze and she could see in his face that he didn't want her to finish him off. He wasn't done with her yet.

Natasha climbed up his hard body, her stiff nipples brushing his chest as she settled over him. Clint craned his head up to bite her pale neck, his hands gliding up and down her sides. His fingers slipped between her legs, stirring up the banked embers of her desire. God, she loved his hands. Their lips met in a deep, hungry kiss and Natasha moaned in her throat as Clint pumped into her, drawing out her own wetness to swirl around her tingling clit. The spy reached down and took his throbbing length in her hand and guided him into her center, both of them crying out as they merged. Natasha took him to the hilt and swiveled her hips, gasping at the way he stretched and filled her. Barton gripped her hips and guided her motion to keep their rhythm in sync, growling with need as he thrust up into her tight sheath.

Natasha sat up, her full breasts bouncing as Clint pounded into her, eyes screwing shut from the intense pressure building at the apex of her thighs. "Clint… God, yes…" She panted desperately, her pleasure winding tighter till it threatened to burst and shatter to her pieces.

"Come for me, Nat." Clint murmured, driving her harder. His rough voice unraveled her, and she cursed in Russian as she rode out her orgasm, feeling the hot burst of Clint's seed inside her as he followed her over the edge. Barton pulled Natasha into an embrace, exhaling with satisfaction as he slipped out of her body. The pair of master assassins lay entwined in the mussed sheets, and for the first time since this whole nightmare with the Tesseract started they felt completely at peace.

Both Hawk and Widow had been dreading the thought of sleep and the horrors that awaited their unconscious minds. But as they lay skin to skin drawing comfort from each other's warmth, they found it easy to slip into a blissful, dreamless sleep. They had earned that much at least.


	5. Its not really over

**Chapter four is up! I hope you enjoy it! Ah, Tony, it is so fun to be a smartass vicariously through you...**

**Hopefully the next update won't take as long as this one did. I promised myself I wouldn't start another Clint/Tasha or any other Avengers fic till I finished this one, so naturally I have three going at once. *dies from being horribly mutilated by plot bunnies* **

**Can I just say, I am floored by all the love my lil' story has received! Thank you sooo much for reading and reviewing! **

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The sun rose over the broken New York skyline, offering hope and reassurance that a new start was possible even after the devastating events of the day before.

Anthony Stark had been up at first light, entirely consumed by plans for the renovation of his tower and modifying the top dozen floors or so to suit his vision of an Avengers headquarters. Until he could get the logistics worked out for a separate location down the road, this was the most viable option for their group in his mind.

Pepper, clothed in only her light blue panties and Tony's black Slayer t-shirt, joined him at his desk and blinked sleepily at the glowing virtual floor plans he was working on. "What's 'Big Guy's lab? Is that for Bruce?" She asked, a little smile warming her features.

"Yeah, I'm converting this section into an observation deck that adjoins our work areas. I'll rig it up with my best tech and download a separate A.I. server for him to use when he's here." Tony replied in a distracted tone as he spun the design around with a flick of his index finger. A pleased giggle bubbled up from the strawberry blonde and Tony cast a suspicious glance at her. "What?" He exclaimed over her laughter.

"Nothing. I just think it's nice. You're making a space to play Science with your new friend." Pepper replied, kissing him on the cheek. Tony processed her comment for a moment, a sideways grin crossing his face. Unwilling to refute or acknowledge her remark about him, he simply made a dismissive noise in his throat and resumed his work.

"Come down for breakfast in half an hour. I had something ordered in last night." Pepper instructed, certain she would end up having to come collect the man in an hour regardless of what she told him. "Jarvis send everyone a wake-up call and tell them breakfast will be on the 17th floor west balcony at 8:00." The perpetually prepared woman directed the digital persona as she headed to the shower.

"Of course Miss Potts, however I must inform you that my systems in Agent Barton's room were compromised sometime during the night. I am unable to activate the surveillance system or unlock the door." Jarvis advised. Pepper cast a worried glance at Tony, but the Iron Man just shrugged.

"He's not a top S.H.I.E.L.D. soldier-boy for nothing, I guess. Though that does strike me more like something 'Miss Rushman' would do, not him." Tony replied, smirking as he recalled how entertaining it had been to threaten to blow Natasha's cover the last time they met. Spies sure could be touchy about their whole incognito shtick.

"Agent Romanoff's room has been unoccupied all night Sir." Jarvis reported laconically, causing the A.I.'s creator to bark with laughter. Tony grinned conspiratorially at his girlfriend, but she just rolled her eyes at him.

"Leave it alone, Tony. That doesn't mean anything is going on between them, and even if there is… Well, they deserve some peace after everything that's happened!" Pepper admonished, feeling more than a little awkward about this topic of conversation.

"You're absolutely right. I'll leave Mr. and Mrs. Agent alone, cross my heart." Stark replied, tapping the glowing metallic circle in his chest with a look of mock-innocence. Pepper shook her head and retreated to the master bathroom, hoping whatever mischief Tony was concocting didn't earn him any permanent injuries from either S.H.I.E.L.D. member.

* * *

Captain Rogers leaned against the wall with a bright red apple in one hand, a steaming cup of gourmet coffee in the other. He watched everyone on the balcony enjoying a beautiful breakfast that looked like it could have come from a five star hotel. Perhaps it had. The Captain had to hand it to Stark, being a billionaire certainly had its advantages.

It warmed Steve's heart to see Dr. Banner engaged in a conversation with Tony about some scientific topic that sailed over his head. Their unexpected friendship would do both men a world of good. Banner needed to know there were people in his life he could count on now, and Tony… Well it wouldn't hurt Stark to be the one giving in a relationship for a change.

Dr. Selvig and Thor were laughing together at the other table; Steve thought he heard something about drinking and making their ancestors proud.

The two S.H.I.E.L.D. agent members of their team were noticeably absent, but no one had commented on it thus far. Captain Rogers didn't get much time to wonder where they were, however.

"Mr. Stark, Mister… ah, Thor…" One of the agents sent by Fury to guard Loki appeared in the doorway holding a large black portfolio. "I have Director Fury on the line for you." Everyone turned to watch as the man set the case down on the table in front of Anthony and it opened up into a digital projection screen. The stern figure of Nick Fury appeared and Steve noted from the clouds scrolling in the background he must still be aboard the Hellicarrier.

"Good morning Avengers. I'm not big on speeches, so congratulations on a job well done. There are a lot of things we need to discuss, but for now I'll stick to the main points. My men tell me Loki and the Tesseract are secure, but that report isn't going to placate my superiors for much longer." Fury cast a meaningful glance at Thor.

"I am taking my brother and the Tesseract back to Asgard. Today. Rest assured that Loki will account for his crimes." Thor stated, his commanding tone leaving no room for argument.

"I figured you'd say something like that. I have agents maintaining a perimeter around Stark tower to make sure your departure isn't... Interrupted." Fury replied. Satisfied with the Director's quick acquiescence, the demi-god's attention returned to his mountain of blueberry pancakes.

"Hang on a second, you're just letting Hammer Time take the God of Melodrama back over the rainbow? And S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to give up their shiny new cosmic energy toy just like that? I mean you hardly got it out of the wrapping paper…" Tony probed the super-spy, swirling the orange juice in his glass as if it were aged scotch. Dr. Selvig looked from Iron Man to Fury and back in disbelief. He had heard Stark was eccentric, but not that the man had a death wish. Pepper just looked annoyed.

Fury gave Stark a hard look, but refused to be baited. "Yep. Just like that." The Director replied evenly.

"We can all agree the world will be a hell of a lot safer once Loki and that cube are gone. Thank you, Thor." Bruce chimed in, hoping to quell the lingering tension in the air. Thor tipped his coffee mug towards the doctor in acknowledgement. Tony uttered an unimpressed noise, but said nothing further.

Stark's silence was not born out of respect for Banner's obvious attempt to keep the peace, but because the playboy genius suddenly became very interested in his handheld digital tablet. He seemed to be watching a video feed of some kind, and a devilish grin flickered over his features.

"Where the hell are Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff? I've been trying to contact them for a report." Fury demanded, his stern exposed eye sweeping the balcony. Pepper elbowed Tony when he snickered at the Director's inquiry. Everyone looked at Stark expectantly, but the billionaire just shrugged.

"Love to help you Nick, but I have no idea where our little assassins are, since apparently S.H.I.E.L.D. trains its agents to hack and dismantle the surveillance systems of friend or foe alike." Tony pocketed his device and met Fury's glance with a wry grin.

"Friend? Is that what you are?" Hawkeye asked as he and the Widow joined the rest of the Avengers on the balcony.

Anthony craned his head back and clapped his hand to his chest dramatically, "Agent Robin Hood, you wound me." He drawled.

Fury ignored Stark's theatrics and addressed his agents, "Romanoff, Barton. I have more calls to make this morning so I'll keep this brief. I want you to make sure our guests' departure goes smoothly, and then I want you two to go dark until further notice." The S.H.I.E.L.D. members exchanged a heavy glance.

"Sir, I'm prepared to give a full report and take responsibility for everything I did." Clint refuted, meeting Fury's intense gaze unflinchingly. Natasha stepped forward, interposing herself between her partner and her superior.

"Agent Barton has nothing to answer for. He was under Loki's control-" The spy began, but was silenced by Clint gripping her shoulder.

"Nat, it's all right. I was under Loki's control, but it was still my plan, my arrows…" Clint murmured, his eyes flashing with anger for an instant. He looked back up at Fury, "I can't explain it Sir. I was still me, but Loki's objective was my only priority. Everything else was… just an obstacle in my path." Hawkeye's tone was all business, but Natasha felt the tension in his fingers before he took his hand off her arm.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me Barton. Honestly, I was impressed. Limited resources and less than 24 hours to plan, and you managed to orchestrate and lead a surgical strike that brought the flagship of one of the most powerful paramilitary agencies in the world to its knees." The Director responded. Clint shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, wishing this conversation was not happening in front of everyone else.

"I think sometimes I take for granted that I have some of the most highly skilled and dangerous individuals in the world working for me." Nick Fury smiled then, a rarity that few people got to see. "I just need you two off the radar for a while, let things calm down a bit before I send you out in the field again. I'll expect full reports when I call you back in, but for now just… Take a damn vacation or something. You've earned it." Fury exclaimed, finally winning cautious grins from his agents with that remark.

Director Fury thanked the team again and signed off. Everyone pulled their chairs around one table and enjoyed the rest of the morning sharing food and war stories.


	6. Our secrets have secrets

**I finally stopped failing at life (for the moment) and posted chapter five of Unmade! I hope you enjoy it!**

**Bad Tony! Don't you know this is a Clint/Tasha story? You always manage to make yourself the center of attention... XD**

* * *

The group stood in a circle around Thor and Loki, watching as the Asgardians vanished in a flash of blue energy. The remaining Avengers exchanged a few brief parting words and prepared to go their separate ways.

Pepper had arranged for Captain Roger's motorcycle to be brought to the tower from his New York apartment. He wished everyone well and headed down the boulevard, smiling as he felt the wind rushing over him. When the world needed them again, they would be there.

Natasha pulled the suitcase containing Dr. Banner's things from the Helicarrier out of the back of the vehicle Nick Fury had dispatched for his agents. Bruce accepted it with a small grin, still a little in awe of the woman. He didn't know all the details of what happened when he became The Other Guy on the flagship, but from what he'd managed to glean he'd really done a number on the former Russian assassin. The fact that agent Romanoff could look him in the eye and even grace him with a smile after what he must have put her through… It was a testament to the woman's strength of will.

"Well kids, it's been a pleasure working with you. Where are you headed?" Tony Stark asked as he approached the trio.

"There's an auxiliary S.H.I.E.L.D. facility not far from here, we'll wait there till Fury calls us in." Natasha replied with a long-suffering sigh. It was too early in the day for Stark's impertinent tone of voice.

The billionaire shot the spy a cheeky grin, "Aw, now that's no fun. I have a much better idea." Tony extracted a handheld tablet from his suit jacket and held it out to the redhead. Clint closed the trunk of the car and approached them then, glancing from Stark to Natasha.

"What's that for?" The marksman asked.

"Well among other things it's an access key for my house on the grounds of a working vineyard and winery I own upstate." Iron Man replied.

Natasha's scarlet brow quirked sardonically. "A winery?" She questioned as she took the device from him, turning it over in her hand.

"Yep. I bought it the last time Pepper told me I needed to stop drinking." Tony responded with a pleased grin. Bruce chuckled at the man's blatantly unapologetic satisfaction. Tony Stark elevated being a wiseass to an art form; Miss Potts had to have the patience of a saint.

"Thank you, but it's far too generous." She refuted with a guarded, false smile at Anthony. Natasha was certain she had disabled the security system in Clint's room last night, but an offering like this could only mean Stark was on to what was between her and the marksman. The thought made her bristle with apprehension. Tony was their teammate now and she even grudgingly admitted to occasionally enjoying the man's smart-mouthed conduct, but the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could not afford to have their relationship exposed in any way. That kind of information in the wrong hands was worse than deadly. She held the device back out to the billionaire.

"Please. I insist." Tony suddenly became uncharacteristically serious, "People like us that do… What we do… We don't get many second chances. We should make the most of them the rare times they come along." He looked from Natasha to Clint and back. "Besides, you two love birds will have the whole place to yourselves, so you won't have to ruin any more of my expensive security equipment." Stark took a step back, partly because he didn't like being handed things and partly because the Widow looked like she might hurt him if he remained within her reach.

Hawkeye chuckled in his throat at the poisonous look the redhead shot at Stark; he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that the man had put two and two together. Iron Man was supposed to be some kind of super-genius, though in the archer's opinion he wasn't making a very smart decision by teasing Natasha. The spy looked at him for confirmation and he nodded at her, silently affirming that he would go along with whatever she decided to do.

"Thank you, Stark." Natasha relented in a rare display of trust, granting him a genuine smile this time.

Clint walked around to the driver's side of their car, grinning and tossing his head in farewell to the pair of scientists as they walked back to Anthony's sleek sports car. When Natasha joined her partner in the vehicle Dr. Banner risked a glance back at the agents as they drove away.

"So those two are…" Bruce prompted when they got into the car.

"Yep. Mum's the word." Tony responded. He handed the doctor his handheld with a gleeful expression. He was almost disappointed that agent Romanoff hadn't tried to fold him into a pretzel for letting on that he was aware of her relationship with the marksman. They made such an adorable-yet-deadly couple.

Bruce looked down at the tablet then back to Tony uncomfortably, not entirely sure he wanted to see whatever evidence Stark had acquired to back up his claim. But the billionaire just nodded his insistence that he should watch the recording pulled up on the device. Banner put on his glasses and held up the screen. The video was a security feed of a hallway in Stark Tower, softly lit by the first rays of morning and completely vacant. For a moment Bruce wondered if Tony was just messing with him, then the door the camera was pointed at opened.

The Black Widow's profile was silhouetted in the doorway, she stood with her arms folded and her chin tipped down almost to her chest. Hawkeye appeared next to her and spoke, but there was no audio on the recording. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he watched the pair of agents talking for a moment, then he looked back at Tony with an unimpressed expression.

"Just wait for it." Stark responded to Banner's unspoken question with a devilish grin.

The scientist looked back at the small screen. Agent Romanoff turned her face away from her partner and Bruce caught a rare glimpse of raw, undiluted emotion on the spy's face. Agent Barton reached out and hooked his finger under Natasha's chin, drawing her face up to meet his. Her mouth moved again and Barton grinned at whatever she said, then brought his lips down on hers. The light kiss rapidly boiled over into something hungry and heated, and Banner quickly clicked the video off, chuckling awkwardly. He set Anthony's tablet in the center console and the pair drove in silence for a moment.

"I'm glad for them." Bruce said with genuine warmth, though shadows of well-worn sadness flickered in his dark brown eyes.

"So am I." Tony agreed, offering his friend an encouraging smile.


	7. My only weakness, my greatest strength

**Hello my sweet buns! Welcome to chapter 6 of Unmade! I have been horrible about getting these chapters edited so I can post them, please forgive my slackery.**

**I hope you enjoy the chappie, and look forward to the lemon that is attached to this installment which I will post separately for those that might rather skip the spicy bits. ;)**

**Also, I finally decided to give the chapters 'real' titles, its something I've debated back and forth since this whole adventure began. SO, some of my author's notes on previous chapters don't make sense any more... I hope we can all just acknowledge that Sara is sometimes prone to bouts of herrpderrp and move along. *happy wiggle***

* * *

It was early evening when the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents pulled into the driveway of the home nestled in the woods overlooking the winery and small but abundant vineyards they passed earlier. The house was modest by Stark standards, which meant it was merely opulent by the average person's measure. The structure looked like the brainchild of Frank Lloyd Wright and Frank Gehry: it was sleek and modern in design with panoramic glass windows and asymmetrical open decks jutting out here and there into the trees.

Unseen sensors tracked their movement, causing lights along the pathway to flare to life as they approached the door. Clint removed his dark sunglasses and craned his head back to take in the vaulted entryway. "Not bad for a little cabin in the woods, hmm?" He commented with a dry chuckle. Natasha grinned and punched in a code on the handheld Anthony had given her, disarming the security protocols. The front door unlatched with an audible click, and the agents went inside.

They got settled in quickly, both well acquainted with moving from place to place and adapting to unfamiliar surroundings. In the spacious kitchen Clint busied himself putting away the few days' worth of groceries they had bought in town on the way in. He smiled absently as he placed a box of Natasha's favorite herbal tea and a ceramic mug next to the coffee maker on the counter so she would know where to find it in the morning. He rummaged through cupboards till he found a cutting board and started dicing up ingredients for their dinner. The marksman wasn't a five-star chef, but he was pretty handy in the kitchen and he found a simple kind of pleasure in cooking. Besides if it were up to Natasha they would most likely end up eating cold cereal. The spy wasn't exactly known for her culinary prowess.

Natasha came back downstairs from unpacking and stopped in the shadow of the hallway when she saw Clint at work in the kitchen. He was bent over a small mound of produce and other ingredients, a dishtowel draped over one shoulder, his calloused hands deftly chopping away. He looked… at home somehow, as much in his element here as when he was shooting ferocious aliens out of the sky in droves. It was something she had always cherished and envied about him, he always seemed to be able to separate himself from the horrors of what their job entailed so effortlessly. But this time, it was not so easy. It killed her to see the shadows of grief and anger lingering in her partner's silvery eyes, made her want to go all the way to Asgard to punish Loki personally for the damage he had wrought.

"So are you gonna come in here or keep hiding in the hallway?" Clint called out with a grin in his voice, not looking up from his cutting board. Natasha smiled and joined him in the kitchen, perching on one of the black vinyl-covered barstools on the opposite side of the counter from where he was working.

"Why can't I ever sneak up on you? It's kind of my thing, you know." She asked with a look of mock exasperation. Hawkeye glanced up at her and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm a sniper. I can't afford to be snuck up on." He responded, chuckling in his throat when she made a face at him. It was a long-standing exchange between the assassins that always ended with Natasha calling him something unflattering in Russian, which she did.

The redhead peered down at his array of ingredients. "Lasagna?" She asked, reaching down to snatch a piece of mushroom from the cutting board and pop it in her mouth. Clint made an affirmative noise, turning away from her to check on the boiling pot on the stove.

"Just like momma never made." He quipped. Natasha smirked and rolled her eyes. At least he was joking about being an orphan again, that was a good sign.

She quietly watched him cook; neither agent was inclined towards idle conversation, but silence between the two of them was familiar and comfortable. Or at least it usually was. Natasha had been running their conversation from that morning over and over in the back of her head all day, and though she was outwardly calm beneath the surface a dozen conflicting emotions whirled within her like frightened sparrows in a cage.

* * *

_"We broke the rules." Natasha stated simply as she stood at the foot of the bed, forcing her gaze to the floor when she caught herself staring at the way Clint's muscles rolled and bunched under his tanned skin as he tugged his pants and shirt on._

_"Since when is that anything new?" Her partner said with a sarcastic chuckle. He did not want to be having this conversation, especially not right now, even though he had fully expected it._

_"Clint." The Widow folded her arms across her chest and stalked over to the door, her tone somewhere between a plea and a warning. She wasn't in the mood for his standard smartass responses to things he found uncomfortable. "Last night shouldn't have-" She began, but the marksman cut her off._

_"We needed last night, Tasha. After everything that happened, after how close we came to losing everything… It wasn't wrong to want a reminder that there are still good parts left of the world we saved." He chose his words carefully. Clint understood the redhead almost better than she did herself, and voicing what they both knew last night really meant would only make her retreat further at this point. The pair of master assassins stood in tense silence for a moment. Finally Clint approached and opened the door; it seemed Natasha wasn't going to respond to his words. The archer berated himself for daring to hope his partner would grant them more than one night of giving in to their true feelings. This really was just like Budapest all over again. _

_The Black Widow lingered in the doorway, her face downturned and partially obscured by her fiery curls. To Clint's amazement, when she looked up a single tear slipped down her cheek and rolled off the point of her chin. "So that's all it was to you then?" She shot back at him, turning her face away in a vain effort to hide her tears._

_"You know it wasn't." Hawkeye responded quietly, hooking his finger under her chin and forcing her to meet his intense gaze. "Tell me you regret it. Tell me that now and we won't say another word about it, things will go back to how they were." He demanded, anxiety pooling in his base of his stomach. This was as close as they'd ever come to admitting what they felt for each other, and the seconds felt like hours as he waited for her to answer him._

_"Damn you, Barton…" Natasha swore, her voice cracking from the emotion she was still stubbornly trying to keep in check. Clint's loving smile at her reply crumbled her remaining defenses and she couldn't help but melt into his embrace as he kissed her. Love was for children, the Widow knew that. But at the moment her childlike desire to build something new out of the broken pieces she and Clint had been shattered into was all she had. So against her better judgment, she surrendered. Natasha clung to Clint desperately, kissing him with all the feeling she couldn't put into words._

* * *

Natasha took a deep, centering breath. The spy was not accustomed to _feeling_ so damn much, or at least acknowledging that she felt anything. It wasn't going to be easy; the life they had chosen didn't exactly lend itself well to relationships. The idea was foolish at best. But when Clint stopped what he was doing to lean across the bar and lightly kiss the corner of her mouth, all her doubts flowed out of her mind like water. Clint was her partner, best friend, her weakness and her strength. He was the only person she trusted completely and the only one she wanted.

Barton finished assembling the dish and placed it in the oven, set the timer and wiped his hands on his towel with a satisfied sigh. "All right, now we kill 45 minutes while this bakes." He turned back to find Natasha had come around to his side of the island, leaning her hip against the edge of the countertop.

"I can think of a few ways to pass the time." The redhead purred, her clear sea blue gaze raking up and down his muscular frame. Her full pout curved up at the corners at the abrupt reaction her little comment garnered from the marksman. His steel gray eyes darkened and the smile he gave her made her pulse quicken and her skin prickle with the need to feel his touch. Natasha's fingertips skidded up over Clint's chest and around his neck as he stepped into her, his lips capturing hers in a deep, hungry kiss. She couldn't suppress a hum of pleasure when he pushed her legs apart with his knee, aligning their bodies seamlessly. The archer swept one hand into her scarlet curls and the other slipped under the hem of her shirt and pressed into the small of her back. They stood entwined for several minutes, teasing, tasting. Natasha had never really enjoyed kissing before, but the lightest brush of his warm lips against her skin was like pure electricity in her veins.

"Do you have any idea how damn sexy you are?" Clint growled against her ear, his mouth wandering lower to nip and lick at her neck.

"Some idea, yes." She responded playfully, her nails digging in to his shoulders as he scraped his teeth across the sensitive pulse point just below her ear.


End file.
